


Follow and Lead

by Powerfulweak



Series: Wednesday Addams!Castiel [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addams Family AU, Dancing, F/M, High School AU, Jock!Dean, M/M, Prom, Prom-posal, Tangoing, Waltzing, Wednesday Addams!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring has sprung, and that means just one thing: Prom. Dean and Castiel are going strong, but that doesn't stop Dean from worrying about asking him to prom... Or about his dancing abilities once he's there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artsiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsiel/gifts).



> This is for Artstiel, who keeps distracting me with headcanons. Thank you, lovely!
> 
> Big thanks to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion) and [JiniZ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ/pseuds/JiniZ) for their feedback and input while writing this monster.

Dean moves along the lunch line, trying to determine if he wants rubbery cafeteria pizza or to raid the vending machine for lunch today. Charlie shuffles a few steps next to him, humming the “Game of Thrones” theme song under her breath as she plucks a plate of chicken and rice from the warmer shelf. He eyes the selections before deciding on just a side of fries; maybe he’ll grab a Snickers bar later.

“Hey Dean, feeling up for a Halo tournament on Friday night?” Charlie asks as they walk away from the register. Dean spots Jo sitting at their normal table and makes a beeline toward her.

“Can’t,” Dean sighs. “Cas is helping me study for finals.” Charlie blinks at Dean in surprise.

“Again?” She asks. “That’s like all you guys do.” Dean snorts and shakes his head.

“He’s helping me get my grade up,” Dean explains. “If I’m lucky, I might be able to get an athletic scholarship next year.” Charlie shrugs as they settle onto the table with Jo.

“Hey, guys,” Jo greets, popping a cheese puff into her mouth. “No Castiel today?” Normally, Cas joins them for lunch, forgoing his former habit of eating alone.

“He’s working on a dissection project in the human biology room,” Dean explains as he tears open a ketchup packet for his fries. “Fetal pigs or something.” Charlie’s expression pinches in confusion.

“I didn’t think he was taking Human Bio?” She asks.

“He’s not,” Dean says, smirking at the confused look that flashes between Charlie and Jo. They all quietly dig into their food as they wait for the rest of their regular lunch group to arrive.

“So, you and Castiel are getting pretty serious, huh?” Charlie says, shooting him a grin. Dean gives a half shrug as he bites down on a fry.

“I guess,” he mumbles. He doesn’t really know what she is getting at. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, currently, Castiel is Dean’s longest relationship. They’ve only been going out six months, but it feels longer. Normally, Dean begins to chafe in relationships after a couple months, but being with Cas is different. It’s not just the fact that he likes being around Cas and spending time with him; Cas makes Dean want to be a better person. He has this unwavering belief in Dean that is unusual in its sincerity.

Hence the studying; three days a week, they are hard at work. Castiel assures Dean that his capabilities are more than enough to get his grades up and, for some strange reason, Dean believes him. There’s something about Castiel that makes you trust every word that comes out of his mouth.

Dean zones out as Ash takes his place next to Jo while she chatters with Charlie about something. He dips a fry in ketchup and takes a bite, chewing idly. Across the room, Dean catches sight of a short, scruffy-looking guy with a patchy beard crookedly hanging a hand-drawn poster on the wall. Big block letters are printed across it advertising this year’s prom.

“Think you’re going to ask Cas?” Dean jumps at Charlie unexpectedly being right next to him.

“Uh, I, uh… I’m not sure,” he mumbles.

“Are you?” Jo asks, eyes wide. “God, can you even imagine Castiel going to Prom? I bet it’s like, against his religion or something.” Jo laughs at her own joke and Dean rolls his eyes. In all the time that he and Cas have been dating, Jo has been the most vocal of his friends about her issues with the relationship. That’s not to say she doesn’t make any effort to be supportive or accept Cas (she really is trying), but she still occasionally slips up.

“It’s not like I don’t like the guy,” she likes to explain. “I just… don’t _get it_ , Dean! I mean, seriously, you’re a great looking guy, you could have anyone, and you decide to fall in love with the school weirdo.”

_Love._

Dean’s never been in love before, but he’s pretty sure he loves Castiel. Whenever they are together, Cas seems to make his heart skip a beat. It reminds Dean of the stories his mom liked to tell about her and his dad when they first met, and how that big, burly Marine would be left a stammering mess anytime Mary flashed a wink and a smile at him.

Dean’s pretty sure he knows the same feeling.

“Dean? _Dean! Hello!_ ” Jo waves a hand in front of Dean’s face. “You are a total space cadet today! What’s with you, man?”

“I bet he’s already planning his prom-posal to Castiel,” Charlie says wistfully, dropping her chin into her hand as a wide grin splits across her face. Dean gives her a confused look.

“My what?” He blurts out.

“Your prom-posal!” Jo says. “You know, those things where some kid does something big and extravagant to ask someone to prom, like a flash mob or dressing up in costume.” Dean blinks absently.

“That sounds ridiculous,” he mutters. “Who would do something that dumb? What if the person says no?” Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Well, your supposed to ask someone you’re pretty sure _won’t_ say no… at least not in public, anyway.” She steals a cheese puff from Jo, taking a chomp off of it, and gesturing with the other half. “And it’s not dumb; it’s about doing a grand, romantic gesture.” Dean snorts and shakes his head.

“Still sounds dumb,” he says.

“I did one,” Ash offers, raising his hand.

“You did?!” Dean blurts out. Of all the people in the school who might perform “grand, romantic gestures,” the last person Dean would expect would be Ash, the school’s resident mulleted computer nerd. “Who’d you ask?”

“Pam Barnes,” he announces proudly. “I stood on the bed of my truck and sang the most romantic song I could think of.”

“Which was?” Dean leans forward.

“‘Is This Love’ by Whitesnake,” he supplies. “‘Course, Pam had an inkling that it was going to happen, even though I tried to keep it secret and everything. I swear, that girl’s psychic or somethin’.” Dean continues to stare at Ash, dumbfounded.

“Did she… Did she say yes?”

“Hell yeah, she did!” Ash fist-pumps the air. “We did it in the back of my truck right after, too!” Jo pushes her lunch away in disgust.

“Jeez, TMI, Ash!” She groans. “No one is interested in your sex life.” The conversation returns to normal, but Dean’s mind remains on the idea of prom.

He’s never heard Castiel talk about going to any school dances, so Dean’s never bothered to ask. When he was dating Lisa, she couldn’t shut up about the dances they were expected to go to: the dress she picked out, the restaurant they were going to, the songs she hoped they played. Cas is nothing like Lisa, though (which may be the understatement of the year.)

Dean knows Cas likes to dance. He has formal dance training a few hours a week. Maybe Cas would want to go to a dance? Show off some of his skill?

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period. Everyone collects their books, dumps out their trays and clears out of the cafeteria. As soon as Dean enters the hallway, he spots the shaggy guy from earlier and Becky Rosen standing off to the side, handing out brightly-colored, photocopied flyers.

“Make sure to submit your nominations for prom court!” Becky yells over the din of the hallway. Dean hastily grabs a flier, which features crudely-drawn clouds and the words “Just Like Heaven” written above the scheduled date for prom. He stuffs the flier in his backpack and rushes up the stairs, heading toward the Human Bio room to meet Cas.

 

* * *

 

Friday night finds Dean and Castiel holed up in Dean’s room. Dean is stretched out across his bed, laying on his stomach. Castiel sits at the end of the bed with his back against the wall.

Dean squints down at the page in front of him, yellow highlighter caught between his teeth. He rubs at his eyes and growls in frustration.

“All these dates are giving me a headache,” Dean complains, pulling the marker from his mouth. “And why do we need to know the names of all these battles?” Dean rolls over and pushes himself up on his elbows.

"It's part of the curriculum, Dean," Cas replies, shifting his legs over Dean's. "They say that those who do not understand history are doomed to repeat it."

Dean snorts incredulously. "Are you saying I'm doomed to repeat ye battle of..." He glances down at the book to his side and grimaces."... Barbourville?" Castiel gives Dean a withering look as he shuts his own textbook.

"On the contrary," Cas states flatly. "I'm saying that not passing this next exam may mean repeating AP American History next year." Dean's eyes go large in fear. He sighs heavily and picks his book back up.

"That's a scary thought," he mutters. Cas stares at him for a moment.

“Would you prefer me trying to quiz you?” He asks. Dean sits up fully, flashing a toothy smile at Cas.

“Can I earn kisses for each right answer?” If Dean was forced to study, there’s no reason he can’t make it a little fun. Castiel raises an eyebrow in response.

“You’re incorrigible,” he says. Dean notes that this wasn’t a “no”, though. He sits up and swings his legs over the bed as Cas leans down and reaches into Dean’s bag for his notebook.

“What’s this?” He asks, pulling out a bright orange piece of paper.

“Oh, yeah… they were handing those out in the hall,” Dean answers, watching for Castiel’s reaction. His eyes flick quickly over the paper as he reads.

Castiel has a fantastic poker face, but after spending so much time studying him, Dean can easily pick out Cas’ tells. A “V” forms momentarily at the center of Cas’ brow before relaxing away. His lips remain a hard line, but the way his gaze softens as he examines the flyer tells Dean that Castiel may not be totally against the idea of prom.

“Alright, close your book,” Cas instructs stiffly. “I’m going to read off the date and you tell me the battle.” He drops the flier back on the floor and opens Dean’s notebook. Dean doesn’t move. Instead he gives Cas a pointed look, crossing his arms smugly across his chest.

“And if I get it right?” He asks. Cas tilts his head, but shifts over the bed, crawling up and over Dean’s legs. His face hovers only a few inches from Dean’s, and he wears just the barest trace of a smile. Dean’s eyes flick down to his mouth and Castiel moves forward, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to his lips.

“You will get a kiss for every correct answer,” Castiel states. Dean can feel his face heating up under Castiel’s scrutiny.

“Now, that’s an incentive,” he mumbles with a shy smile. Castiel repositions himself at the end of the bed and pulls up Dean’s notebook.

“Now…  July 18, 1861…” he begins.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Castiel’s leaves for the night, Dean knows he needs help. He peeks into Sam’s room, finding his brother hunched over his school books, earbuds drowning out any outside noise.

“Sam,” Dean calls out, knocking on the doorframe. There’s no response; he is clearly zoned out. “Sam!” Dean takes a step inside the room, pulling one of the buds out of Sam’s ears.

“The Hell, Dean?” Sam snaps, flailing Dean’s hand away from his face.

“Sorry, but I needed to get you attention,” he says. “I need your help.” Sam looks at his older brother curiously as he pulls out his other earbud.

“What’s going on?” He asks. Dean walks further into the room and flops down onto Sam’s bed. Sam twists his rolly chair around to face him.

"I need to ask Cas to prom," Dean says. Sam stares at him blankly

"Ok," he says. "So, that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you look so bummed out about it?" Dean groans and runs his hands through his hair, letting his elbows fall to his knees.

"I don't know how to do it," he admits. Sam's faces twists in confusion.

"You... Just... Ask him," Sam says glibly. "You say 'will you go to prom with me.' It's not that hard Dean, even for you." Dean rolls his eyes, wondering when his younger brother picked up this sarcastic tone.

"Thanks, smart ass. I know that," he snaps back. "I'm trying to come up with a prom-posal."

"A what?"

"Y'know, those things where someone does something really big and dramatic when asking someone to prom." Dean explains, towing the line between enthusiastic and aloof on the subject. "Like, you're proposing to them... To go to prom with you." Sam stares at Dean with big, wide eyes before busting out in an unexpected fit of laughter. Dean can feel his face heating on embarrassment.

"Yeah, it's really funny Sam," he mutters sarcastically.

"Oh my God! You're actually going to do that?" Sam chuckles. "I would pay money to see that." He continues to laugh and Dean has had about enough.

"Whatever, Sam," he mutters angrily, jumping to his feet and heading out of the room.

"Hey! Wait, Dean!" Sam calls after him. "C'mon, man, I didn't mean to piss you off. I think it's great, actually. Really great, just... Not very 'you', y'know?" Dean exhales harshly through his nose and nods; he understands what Sam means.

"Yeah, well, it's something I want to do," he huffs. Sam smiles at him.

"You kind of love Cas, don't you?" Sam asks. An unprovoked smile curls at Dean mouth.

"More than kinda," he nods. Sam considers him for a second. He drops back down into his rolly chair, turning it around so he is sitting backward in it.

"So what do you need my help with?" He asks.

"I have no clue what to do," Dean drops back onto Sam's bed. "I'm drawing a blank."

"Nothing?" Dean shakes his head.

"I mean, I've tried to find ideas online," he says, "and I've watched a bunch of those videos where guys hire horse-drawn carriages or organize flash mobs-"

"Those seem pretty good," Sam interjects.

"Yeah, but they're not... _Cas_ , y'know?" Dean looks up at his brother with a frustrated grimace. "None of it is the kind of thing he would like." Sam quirks his mouth to the side as he thinks, fiddling with a loose thread poking out of the chair.

"Well, what kind of things does Cas like?" He asks after a moment. Dean smiles to himself and gives an amused snort.

"Bees, bugs, knives-" he lists off.

"Not too romantic, huh?"

"Dead things..." Dean rubs at his temples, trying to rack his brain.

"Have you talked to Tessa Mortimer at all?" Sam asks. Dean looks up at him, perplexed.

"No... Why?" Sam shrugs absently.

"Well, her dad owns a funeral home," he offers. "You might be able to do something with that." Dean's eyes immediately brighten as an idea finally hits him.

 

* * *

 

Lucky for Dean, he has third period German with Tessa.

He gets to class a few minutes early, smiling in relief to see the girl already at her normal desk, glancing through her book.

“Hey, Tessa,” Dean greets cheerfully, plopping down into the seat next to her. She glances up at him, blinking several times in surprise.

“Dean,” she says, clearly taken aback by his presence. Despite practically being in the same classes since second grade, Dean and Tessa pretty much exist tangentially to one another. They only seemed to interact when it was required of them (Dean thinks they may have worked together on a history project in seventh grade, but he can’t be sure).

“Can I help you?” She asks warily, closing her textbook and giving him her full attention. Dean puts on his best smile, the same one he uses with his mom when he wants to hang out with Benny past curfew.

“Hey, um… I was wondering,” he begins, nervously rubbing his hands together. “You’re dad owns a funeral home, right?” Tessa’s shoulders sink and she releases a heavy sigh.

“He manages a Life Celebration Center,” Tessa says flatly. Clearly, this isn’t the first time she has heard this question.

“So, he’s a mortician?” Dean asks. Tessa’s jaw tightens briefly before relaxing.

“He’s a funeral director, Dean,” she replies gently. “He has a mortician on staff, and before you ask, no you can’t see any of the bodies-”

“No, no, no,” Dean cuts her off, waving his hands in front of him, “That’s not what I’m asking about. I was wondering if you, um… could introduce me to him.” Her face pinches together in confusion.

“Why?” She asks. Dean cracks his knuckles distractedly.

“I, um… I need to ask a favor,” he admits, lowering his voice as more of his classmates shuffle into the room.

“What kind of favor?” She asks suspiciously.

“Uh, well… Do you guys own a hearse?”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Dean finds himself sitting in the quiet lobby of Mortimer Memorial Services. He feels very out of place amongst the tall vases filled with artificial plants and muted beige walls. A small, spindly looking man emerges from one of the doors and walks toward him.

“You must be Dean,” he says stiffly (Heh!), extending his hand out.

“Uh, yeah I am,” Dean says, shaking it. “Thank you for doing this, uh, Mr. Mortimer.”

“Well, I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” the older man says, a polite smile crossing his face, “but my daughter insisted I meet with you. She said it was rather important.” Mr. Mortimer turns and makes a beckoning motion with his hand. Dean follows him down the hall and through a door, into a well-kept office.

“Please take a seat,” he instructs. Dean does so, still feeling ill-at-ease at being inside a funeral home.

“Now, Tessa mentioned something about needing my help to… ask your boyfriend out?”

“It’s for prom, actually,” Dean corrects.

“Prom?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, planning a prom-posal,” he explains. “It’s one of those things where you try to do something big and-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen videos online of such things,” Mr. Mortimer waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. He looks at Dean seriously. “I must admit, Dean, I’m intrigued as to why you would need a funeral director involved in your… prom-posal.” Dean chuckles lightly and scratches at the back of his head.

“Well, uh… You see, my boyfriend’s a little different…”

It takes Dean about 15 minutes to layout his plan to Tessa’s father. When he finishes, he sits nervously in the chair across from him and waits for a response. Mr. Mortimer looks at Dean somberly, hands clasped together with two fingers steepled in front of his mouth. He hums lightly and taps his fingers together.

“I daresay, I do find your idea intriguing, if a bit… unorthodox,” he says.

“I know,” Dean sighs, “but it would mean so much to me… and Cas as well. I mean, I understand if you can’t do everything, but even just the hearse... ” He trails off, offering the man a hopeful look and praying that he can channel some of Sammy’s puppy-dog eyes. A small smile plays at the edges of Mr. Mortimer’s lips.

“I tell you what, Dean,” he says. “I will agree to help you with your plan, your entire plan, but I am only doing this because it is for Castiel.” Dean startles in surprise.

“Wait… You know Cas?” He asks. Mr. Mortimer gives a small shrug, like it is obvious.

“Of course I do,” he replies. “His father and I go way back. The Addamses are dear, family friends.” Dean lets out a low chuckle. He should’ve expected as much; he doesn’t know why is came as such a surprise.

“Great!” Dean blurts out excitedly. “That’s awesome!” Mr. Mortimer folds his hands over his desk and leans forward.

“I will warn you though, Dean,” he says seriously. “It may be quite uncomfortable. I hope you are aware of that.” Dean grimaces and nods.

“Well, I am _now_ ,” he says with a stiff chuckle. Mr. Mortimer nods absently.

“Alright then,” he locks his gaze on Dean. “When were you planning on… doing your prom-posal thing?” Dean grins genuinely.

“Well, is Friday ok?”

 

* * *

 

As soon as the fifth period bell rings, Castiel carefully collects his calculus books and slips them into his messenger bag. He allows the rest of his class to exit the room first before slipping out into the hallway. Normally, Dean is already waiting for him right outside the door, ready to walk with him to lunch. Today, though, he is nowhere in sight.

Castiel frowns, his brows furrowing as he scans the tightly-packed crowd for his boyfriend.

“Cas!” Charlie charges toward him. “Dean wanted me to come and tell you that he had to take care of something with the Impala, but he said to tell you to meet him outside.” She grins brightly as she grabs him by the sleeve of his coat, pulling him toward the stairwell.

Castiel wants to protest, but he doubts that Charlie would even hear him if he did. She doesn’t let go of him until they are out the front doors. Castiel squints in the brightness of the daytime. He pulls out his dark glasses and, after considering for a moment, decides that his umbrella is in order as well.

“Charlie, I do not appreciate-” Castiel starts to object, but he is cut off by the sound of violins playing. He glances to his right where a string quartet stands near the curb, playing Beethoven's “Moonlight Sonata.” It’s one of Castiel’s favorite arrangements, although he does find it strange that members of the orchestra would be practicing _outside_ of the school building.

“Just… Just wait here.” Charlie flashes him two thumbs up. He narrows his gaze at her suspiciously. Dean is still nowhere to be found, and Castiel can clearly see the empty Impala at the back of the parking lot.

“I do not understand,” he mumbles to himself. Charlie bobs over to where Jo, Ash and Garth are gathered, leaning against the brick exterior of the school.

There is a soft growl of an engine, and Castiel’s attention is immediately drawn to a beautiful silver hearse pulling into the circle in front of the school. It only takes him a moment to recognize it as the Mortimer’s hearse. Mr. Mortimer exits the vehicle, giving Castiel a stiff nod and a tight smile in recognition.

He moves around to the back of the vehicle, opening the hatch and removing a flower arrangement wreath and an easel to set it on.

“Castiel,” he says, motioning for him to approach. Mr. Mortimer once again reaches into the back and pulls a pale-colored pine coffin out over the rollers. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel catches sight of Charlie with her cell phone camera pointed at him, smiling ridiculously.

Mr. Mortimer taps on the coffin lid three times. “We’re ready,” he says quietly. There is movement within the coffin, and Castiel can’t help his own excited gasp as the lid is pushed open to reveal… _Dean_?

Dean sits up in the coffin, gasping and sweaty. “You were right about that being uncomfortable,” he mumbles, gulping for air.

“I warned you,” Mr. Mortimer answers with a wry smile, moving to the side of the vehicle. Dean turns his attention to Castiel, wiping at his damp forehead with the sleeve of his letterman jacket and grinning. He reaches down and pulls up a cardboard sign which reads “Will you go to prom with me?”

Castiel blinks in disbelief. His eyes flick from the string quartet, to Charlie and her friends, to Mr. Mortimer before finally landing on Dean, looking exhausted and uncomfortable.

“Well?” He asks hopefully.

Castiel doesn’t give himself over to emotion easily, and finds displays of such things frivolous. However, Dean seems to stir something up within him completely out of his control. He feels his cheeks heat with either embarrassment or affection, he isn’t quite sure. He brings a hand to his mouth to hide his smile.

“You did this all for me?” Castiel asks, taking in the scene once more. The quartet has moved onto Pachelbel's “Canon.” Dean runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair and nods. He shrugs off his jacket, revealing a nearly-translucent white t-shirt underneath.

“I can’t think of anyone else at this school who would appreciate this the way you would,” he admits. He looks up at Castiel through his eyelashes. “Plus, there’s no one else I want to go to prom with.”

 

* * *

 

Dean waits in earnest for a response. His nerves are shot and he’s dizzy from being in the casket for so long. He really should’ve taken Mr. Mortimer’s advice and not stayed in the box the entire drive in.

Castiel snorts, a smile briefly flickering across his face, as he gives a small nod.

“Is that a yes?!” Dean exclaims, gripping the edges of the box in surprise. Cas looks up and gives a more assured nod.

“Yes, Dean,” he says, looking up at him seriously. “I will attend prom with you.” Dean can’t control his triumphant whoop. He tries to scramble out of the coffin, nearly tipping it if not for Mr. Mortimer hurrying over to help him out. There is a smattering of applause from across the courtyard, and Dean can hear Charlie and Jo cheering wildly.

In an instant, Dean is on his feet and swallowing Cas up in a hug. Dean feels him tense momentarily at the public display, but he soon relaxes into his touch. Dean’s whole body shakes with excited laughter.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “I’m so happy you said yes.” He presses a small kiss against Castiel’s ear. Castiel pulls back and gives Dean a curious look.

“Of course I’d say yes,” he replies, dryly. “I do not mind going to school-related social events, and I am very much looking forward to dancing with you.” Dean’s smile falters and he blinks in rapid succession. He opens his mouth to say something, but is immediately descended upon by Charlie and Jo, who chatter on top of each other loudly.

Castiel’s hand intertwines with Dean’s and he leads him back into the school toward the lunchroom. Dean tries to pay attention to the conversations around him, but his mind is stuck on what Castiel said: “ _I am very much looking forward to dancing with you_.”

Dancing. He forgot about dancing.

 

 

_Art by[Diminuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/)  
_


	2. Lead

Dean stands in front of the Addams’ massive front door, worrying his lip between his teeth and staring at the knocker in front of him. He takes a deep breath and lifts the iron ring, pounding it against the heavy, wooden door.

The hinges squeak as the door opens. Rather than Virgil's hulking form, Gabriel appears in the doorway, sucker hanging from his mouth.

"What up, Dean-o?" He asks with a sly grin. Dean tries to hide his distaste at the nickname.

"Uh, hi Gabriel," he mumbles. He glances into the doorway. "Uh, where's Virgil?"

"The vet," Gabriel answers, popping the candy from his mouth. "Mom's taking him to get his shots." Dean nods absently.

"Castiel isn't here," Gabriel continues. "Fencing practice, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," Dean says, awkwardly shifting on his feet. "I actually came to see your dad." Gabriel pauses on his sucker mid-lick and gives Dean an inquisitive look.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, is he home?" Gabriel is quiet for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Sure thing," he steps aside, letting Dean into the entryway. Dean follows Gabriel down the hallway and through the house.

"So have and you Castiel started doing the dirty yet?" Gabriel asks, not looking back at Dean. The question catches Dean off guard

"Uh... No," Dean admits. "Cas really isn't into that." Dean is startled by the abrupt laugh that bubbles up from Gabriel.

"Oh believe me, Castiel is _most definitely_ into that!" Gabriel chortles. "You just got to get to a deeper level with him, if you know what I mean." He clicks his tongue and shoots a wink back at Dean.

Dean opens his mouth to ask what Gabriel means, when an unattached hand comes scurrying across the floor toward them.

"Oh, hi Megan," Dean greets. Megan pops up into her wrist, wiggling her fingers in Dean's direction. "How are you doing today?" Megan loops her thumb and forefinger into a "ok" sign before scuttling off once more.

"Father, Dean Winchester is here to see you!" Gabriel loudly calls out as they enter the back parlor.

Balthazar's head pops up from behind a newspaper. For once, his mouth isn't attached to some part on his wife’s body. As soon as his eyes fall on Dean, he smiles.

“Ah, Dean! What a pleasant surprise. I’m afraid Castiel isn’t here at the moment. He is attending his fencing lesson.”

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Dean fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. “I actually came to see you.” Balthazar frowns and motions for Dean to join him on the sofa. Dean glances back at Gabriel, hoping the other boy might give them some privacy, but he doesn't take the hint.

“Well, how can I help you then?” Balthazar says, lacing his fingers together over his knee.

"Ok, um... I, uh, I asked Cas to prom a couple days ago,” he begins. Balthazar chuckles light and nods.

“Yes, yes, Julian told me all about it,” he says. “Quite an ingenious plan. I know Castiel appreciated it.” Dean smiles and shrugs at the compliment.

“Yeah, well…” he scratches at the back of his neck. “The thing is… It’s a dance.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Balthazar says slowly.

“And Cas is going to expect to dance…” Dean looks up at him, hoping that he’ll pick up on what Dean is getting at. Balthazar looks confused for a moment, before his expression softens and he nods.

“And you can’t dance,” he supplies. Dean bristles as Gabriel gives an amused snort.

“Bingo,” Dean says sadly. “I, uh… was wondering if maybe you could... teach me?" Balthazar rubs at his chin as he considers Dean.

"You would like me to teach you to dance?" He asks carefully. Dean gives a frustrated sigh, dragging his hand through his hair.

"Look, I know Cas is a really good dancer. He takes lessons and shit, right?" He jumps to his feet, pacing anxiously. "I just want to be able to dance with him and not embarrass him if he asks to do the... Tarantula or something!"

"I believe you mean Tarantella," Balthazar offers with a soft smile. "And I doubt Castiel would ask you to do such a dance. It's not very suited for a social gathering such as a prom." Balthazar leans back over the settee and taps his chin in thought.

"Now the Waltz, perhaps yes," he continues, "or even the Tango. Yes, I believe I could teach you the basics of each dance. Nothing too fancy, of course, but enough to handle your own against Castiel." Dean's jaw drops and he blinks in surprise.

"You'd do that for me?" He asks.

"Well, of course," he replies. "Castiel is very fond of you and I think he'd appreciate the effort."

"Awesome!" Dean exclaims excitedly. "When should we start?" Balthazar rises from his seat and gently replaces the newspaper.

"Now seems to be as good a time as any," he says.

"Oh man, I can't wait to see this!" Gabriel gushes.

"And you shall," Balthazar replies as he leads Dean out of the parlor. "You will be assisting us."

"I'm what!?" Gabriel squawks, sucker dropping from his mouth.

"He's what!?," Dean exclaims at the same time, following after Balthazar.

 

* * *

 

“1-2-3, 1-2-3… Don’t slouch, Dean.” Balthazar instructs from the side as Dean tries to lead Gabriel around the ballroom in a dance. “1-2-3, left-right-left… Stop looking at your feet!”

“I need to look at my feet if I am ever going to figure this out,” Dean gripes. He would never have imagined three steps being so complicated.

“Don’t listen to father, Dean. You dance like an angel,” Gabriel teases.

“Gabriel, stop leading. Dean needs to learn!” Balthazar admonishes. “Now, when you step forward, Gabriel will spin under your arm. Make sure to keep stepping and keep that arm stiff.”

“Amongst other things,” Gabriel interjects, winking at Dean.

“Gabriel!” Balthazar warns. Dean tries the move, clumsily attempting to turn Gabriel while continuing to dance.

“This is useless,” Dean groans, dropping his arms. “I’m never going to get this.” Balthazar pushes off the wall and approaches Dean.

“Dean, you must not be so hard on yourself,” he offers, placing a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Rome was not built in a day, nor was the Waltz mastered in such.” Dean sighs heavily and shakes his head.

“This was a dumb idea. I’m not… built for this!” Balthazar tilts his head curiously. Dean could almost laugh at how much it reminds him of Castiel.

“Dean, if I can teach Virgil to Waltz, I can surely teach you,” Balthazar assures. “When is your prom?”

“May 9th,” Dean mumbles, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. Balthazar hums softly.

“That gives us five weeks,” he states. “That should be enough time.” Dean looks at him doubtfully.

“You really think so?” He asks. Balthazar quirks his mouth to the side and slaps him on the back, hard enough to make him stumble.

“Dean, the first thing you should know about me is that, besides being a Bon Vivant, I am an exacting tutor.” Balthazar levels his stare at Dean. “You are to report here every Monday and Wednesday afternoon. I expect that you’d like this to be a surprise for Castiel, yes?” Dean nods.

“Right then. You are to be here twice a week and I expect you to practice at home for _at least_ an hour each evening, understood?” Dean gives another tense nod. Balthazar smiles at him warmly. “Now, why don’t we start on the Tango?” He claps his hands twice and abruptly Gabriel is pressed against Dean’s chest.

“Ready when you are, Bucko,” he quips. Dean gapes at Balthazar, but is swept across the ballroom before he can get a word out.

 

* * *

 

Mary carries a basket full of laundry up the stairs to her sons’ rooms. Sam is downstairs, studying at the kitchen table with his friend Jessica. She slips into his room and quickly puts away his things. She moves next door to Dean’s room and knocks lightly on his door.

“Dean?” She calls out. There’s no response. She knocks again. “Dean, can I come in?” There’s no sound from inside, no music or TV chatter. She tentatively takes hold of the doorknob. Mary is careful of her sons’ privacy; lord knows, with two teenage boys, she has to be. The handle gives and she presses against the door. As it opens, Mary has to hold back a surprised laugh at what she sees.

Dean stands in the middle of his room, stepping back and forth awkwardly with his arms extended out in front of him. He’s faced away from the door, counting under his breath to music being piped in through his headphones.

Mary gapes for a moment, before stepping back out and shutting the door again. She stands in the hallway, looking puzzled, as John comes bounding up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” He asks. Mary looks up at him, brows pinched together.

“I just walked in on your son doing the strangest thing,” Mary says. John frowns.

“What? Was he jerking off?” He asks.

“No,” she says seriously. “Dancing.” She moves past him and heads toward their bedroom.

“Dancing?” John silently mouths.

 

* * *

 

On Prom Night, Dean pulls the Impala up outside the Addams’ massive house. He glances at his watch; he’s 10 minutes later than he wanted to be. His mom kept insisting on taking more photos before he left, despite his assurances that he and Cas would return before they headed to the venue.

He shifts his shoulders uncomfortably in his stiff tuxedo jacket and swipes his coat sleeve across his damp forehead. Even with the windows rolled down the entire drive, Dean can already feel himself starting to sweat through his clothes. He wants to blame it on the humidity of the evening, but really it’s nerves.

He’s been practicing like a maniac. He’s pretty sure he can do the Waltz in his sleep… No, scratch that, he’s _positive_ he can do the Waltz in his sleep. More than once, he’s woken up from some unremembered dream with his feet lazily moving in ¾ time.

The tango had been a whole other adventure (one which required a little too much time with Castiel’s obnoxious younger brother), but somehow Dean had managed to make enough progress to earn Balthazar’s seal of approval.

Dean takes a deep breath and opens the car door. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks. He walks up the meandering walkway to the front door. Before he can even reach up for the knocker, the door opens to reveal an elegantly dressed Castiel on the other side.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, allowing a brief smile to cross his face. “I heard the Impala as you were approaching.” He steps aside, letting Dean into the house. Dean takes the opportunity to really admire Cas’ appearance: his tailored black cutaway jacket hits at mid-thigh and hangs open, revealing a charcoal gray waistcoat beneath it. A limp white tie hangs loosely at his neck ( _a cravat_ , Dean somehow remembers Cas explaining).

“You look, um…” Dean finds himself tongue-tied at the sight. Sometimes he forgets that, beneath all of his sweetness and strange quirks, Castiel is really, really hot.

“You look wonderful!” He finally blurts out. Castiel looks away shyly and reaches for Dean’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You do as well, Dean,” he says, brushing a stray piece of lint from his shoulder. Dean is only thankful that he and his father are close enough in measurements and he didn’t have to rent a tux.

“Uh, I brought this for you,” Dean mumbles, holding up a plastic box, containing a boutonniere. Dean was slightly disappointed he couldn’t find any black roses, but he felt that maybe Cas would appreciate the red one just the same. It’s the color of blood, after all; Cas likes blood, right?

“Thank you so much, Dean,” Castiel says. Dean opens the container and retrieves the flower. His only previous experience with school dances is with girls. Slipping a corsage over a wrist is easy; he’s never had to pin a boutonniere on.

“This might take me a sec…” Dean mumbles, trying to pin the flower onto Cas’ jacket. “Ouch! Fuck!” He jerks back his hand, shaking his stabbed finger. Without a word, Castiel pulls out his pocket square and presses it against Dean’s bleeding finger.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters sheepishly. Castiel responds by closing up Dean’s hand and turning it over to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“You don’t have to apologize, Dean,” he says, voice soft and warm. The sound of voices drift down from the stairs, followed by members of Cas’ Family.

“Dean!” Balthazar greets as he reaches the bottom step, carefully taking his wife’s hand and leading her to the doorway. “I was wondering when you were arriving.” Dean politely greets Cas’ mother and father. For over a month, he’s spent a fair amount of time with both of them (Anna serving as Dean’s dance partner when Gabriel was unavailable), but at the moment, he knows they are all in their intended roles of “Parents” and “Son’s Boyfriend.”

“We’ve brought out the camera for photographs,” Anna says in a breathy voice. “I hope that’s alright.” Castiel casts a brief, apologetic look toward Dean as he repins the boutineer to his jacket.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Addams… I mean, Anna,” Dean replies. “I think we have time.” Dean and Cas follow his parents into the back parlor. Gabriel and Uncle Crowley are in the corner, poring over the chessboard; neither bothers to greet them as they enter.

There is a space cleared in the opposite corner. A huge velvet curtain hangs over the space where the Addams Family Portrait usually stays.

“That’s uh… That’s a pretty old camera, huh?” Dean says, pointing at the accordian style camera set on a tripod.

“Oh yes,” Balthazar agrees. “Addams family heirloom. Over six generations of Addamses have been photographed with it and over t _hree-quarters_ of them actually show up on film.” Dean chooses to ignore that comment as Balthazar positions Cas and him in front of the curtain.

“Alright, you two, stay right like that. Do not move,” he instructs. Dean tries to follow the order, but he flinches as something flies past his and Cas’ face, embedding himself in the wall to their right.”

“Gabriel, this is no time to practice your knife-throwing!” Balthazar sighs bitterly. Gabriel gives an irritated whine, but he turns his attention back to his uncle and the chessboard.

“On the count of three,” Balthazar announces, peeking behind the camera and holding up a stick covered in black powder. “One… Two… Three!” There is a sharp flash of light and Dean sees spots. The room fills with the slight smell of sulfur and smoke from the flash powder. Cas pats at the hand Dean has wrapped around his waist.

“Shall we go?” He asks. Dean nods and rubs at his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

“Yeah, yeah… good call,” he mumbles. He takes Cas’ hand and they bid a brief goodbye to Cas’ family before heading out the door.

“I would like to apologize for that,” Cas says as they approach the Impala. “My mother and father feel some sort of affinity to me attending this event.” Dean has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Eh, that was nothing,” he says, waving him off as he opens the passenger side door. “We still have to stop by and see my parents.”

 

* * *

 

They are over 20 minutes late for the start of the dance. Dean’s mom wouldn’t let them leave until she’d got nearly every shot imaginable. For once, Dean was relieved to have his dad there to cull her enthusiasm a bit.

The venue where their class prom is held is a nearly-century old theater. Cas squeezes Dean’s hand as they walk through the lobby, whispering excitedly in his ear about all of the instances of haunting that have occurred here.

“Dean! Cas!” Charlie’s voice is unmistakable and he soon sees a flash of red hair popping up from the crowd of people. She’s wearing floor-length, strapless gown and it takes a moment for Dean to realize that it’s made entirely of… duct tape.

“You like?” Charlie spins around, showing off her dress. “Made it myself, obviously. You two are looking sharp.” The rest of their friends emerge behind her: Ash and Pam, Garth and his girlfriend Bess, and Jo who, like Charlie, decided to go stag.

“We apologize for our tardiness,” Castiel pipes up. “Both of our parents wanted photographic evidence of this evening.” Charlie laughs and shakes her head.

“Tell me about it!” She says. “I think Jo’s mom filled up three memory cards.”

“She’s just gloating because she got me into this dress,” Jo grouses, anxiously smoothing her hands over the sequined-covered monstrosity.

“What? Did you lose a bet?” Dean asks.

Jo rolls her eyes and nods. “If my GPA wasn’t above a 2.7 by this week, this was my punishment.” Dean covers his mouth, holding back a laugh and making a mental note not to ever get on Ellen’s bad side. That woman can get creative.

“You look lovely,” Cas offers. Jo gives him a wan smile.

“You’re wrong… but thank you,” she says. She offers her arm to Charlie. “C’mon, let’s get in there before all the tables fill up.” Charlie and Jo lead the rest of the group into the massive theater space, now decked out in typical prom fashion.

Dean and Cas hang back, allowing the others through the doorway first. He chances a glance at his boyfriend before reaching over and straightening his cravat slightly.

“Ready?” Dean asks. Cas’ eyes light up, even though his mouth remains a passive line. He reaches down and clasps Dean’s hand.

“Of course,” he says. Dean pulls up his fist, pressing a kiss to Cas’ knuckles as they walk into the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The evening goes pretty much as Dean expects: cheap decorations, subpar food and a lot of students pretending they’re not just killing time until they can get trashed at the after-party. The only thing that makes this dance so much better than all the others he’s attended is having Cas at his side.

Cas takes in everything like he’s reporting for National Geographic.

“Is this your first time attending a school dance?” Garth asks him over dinner.

“A school-related function, yes,” Cas replies with a nod, “but I have attended numerous balls with my parents. They are very similar to this.”

“Big balls, Cas?” Dean asks facetiously.

“Of reasonable size, I would say,” Cas doesn’t seem to pick up on Dean’s innuendo.

“So who would you say has bigger balls: us or them?” Dean asks. Jo cackles loudly while Charlie snorts into her drink, sending ice tea up her nose. Castiel gives Dean a knowing side-eye; he’s trying to look pissed, but Dean can see a smirk beginning to crook at the corner of his mouth.

“This is very similar to those events,” Cas continues, addressing Garth. “Although, I’ve never heard of the need to elect a figurehead monarchy to preside over the event.”

“Here, here!” Jo says, banging on the table. “I agree. Prom Court is bullshit.”

“Says the girl who is front runner for Prom Queen,” Charlie teases, elbowing the other girl affectionately.

“Stupid Becky Rosen,” Jo grumbles. “Real funny nominating me… And then putting up all of those posters.”

“Hey, wouldn’t it be hilarious if you and Dean won Prom King and Queen?” Charlie giggles. Jo rolls her eyes in exasperation, but Cas glances at Dean in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you were a candidate,” Cas says with a small frown. Dean huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“It’s not important, Cas,” he replies. “Someone on the team probably nominated me. It’s just a popularity contest, y’know?” Castiel tilts his head to the side, expression drawn down.

“Still, if I had known, I would have taken the opportunity to cast my vote for you.” Dean gives Cas a wry grin.

“Thought you said it was a figurehead position.” Cas shrugs stiffly.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have an attractive figurehead.” He looks fondly at Dean. Dean can feel the words _“I love you”_ catch in his throat.

“Man, you guys flirt so weird!” Ash laughs, breaking the tension. Jo hits him on the arm in response and the conversation moves on. Dean lets his hand drift under the table and settle over Cas’.

 

* * *

 

The announcement is made for all members of Prom Court to move to the stage. Dean gives Cas’ hand a squeeze as he and Jo rise from the table.

As Dean expected, his name isn’t called when they announce Prom King. Andy Gallagher  cheers wildly when they say his name, fist-pumping all the way across the stage to receive his crown.

Prom Queen is announced to happy cheers and Jo’s audible “ _What the Fuck!_ ” when her name is called out. Andy looks elated as she takes her place at his side. Dean has a sneaking suspicion that he might’ve had a lot to do with her winning.

Following their dance (which includes Andy’s near-constant heart eyes at Jo), the rest of prom court is invited to the dance floor. Dean wastes no time making a beeline to Castiel.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, bowing formally. Castiel nods, taking Dean’s proffered hand and following him back to the floor. Dean wipes his freehand against his pant leg nervously. He catches the DJ’s eye as they reach the center of the floor; he really hopes this is worth the $50 he slipped the guy.

The music begins with a piercing sound of a violin followed by a quick, steady drumbeat. Nearly everyone looks confused, but Castiel’s eyes widen in recognition. Before he can say a word, though, Dean plants a hand on Cas’ hip, straightens his back and extends his arm out.

They tango across the dance floor, Castiel’s movements fluid and natural. Each of Dean’s steps seem to chase Castiel’s as he moves backward. Dean’s lips move as he tries to remember the “slow-slow-quick-quick” combination. He tries to keep up, but it’s clear that Castiel’s ability far exceeds his own. All eyes are locked on them, but Dean is too focused on the dance to care.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he missteps and lands on Cas’ toes.

“It’s fine, Dean” Cas replies. “Just relax, you are doing wonderfully.” Dean smiles gratefully. He drags his leg forward slowly, following Cas’, as they rock into each step. Castiel presses himself tighter into Dean, letting his neck arch back dramatically. He lifts up and catches Dean’s eye, giving an almost imperceptible nod. Dean takes hold of Cas’ hand, spinning him out with on an extended arm. He retracts back into Dean’s embrace, their noses brushing intimately. Cas mumbles something under his breath that Dean doesn’t quite catch.

They continue along the floor, Dean’s movements growing more confident. As the music comes to a close, Dean grasps Castiel around the waist, bending on one knee and dipping him low. Castiel’s chest rises and falls beneath his and he darts out a tongue over his chapped lips.

The moment is broken by a thunderous applause. Dean carefully lifts Cas up to see the dancefloor completely empty and all eyes on them. Charlie and Jo are at the side, jaws hanging open in amazement. Dean gives an awkward bow and leads Castiel back to their table.

“Dean!” Charlie exclaims, following behind them. “That was… When did you… Where… _Why were you hiding that from us?_ ” Dean chuckles softly.

“It was a surprise for Cas,” Dean admits.

“It was a surprise for everyone!” Jo shouts, punching him in the shoulder.  “Holy Crap! _No one_ is going to be talking about me on Monday! Thank you, you crazy bastard!” Dean feels Cas’s fingers intertwine with his.

“You learned the Tango for me?” He asks.

“And the Waltz,” Dean adds. “I can show you that later.” Castiel blinks in disbelief.

“How-?”

“Your family,” Dean responds. “Your dad and mom, and occasionally, your brother.” Castiel stares at Dean in awe, a smile forming across his face. Without warning, Castiel grabs Dean by the lapels of his jacket and draws him in for an intense kiss. Dean’s hands reach up and cup his jaw, pulling him in deeper. He closes his eyes and enjoys the warmth of Cas’ lips parting, allowing Dean’s tongue to explore his mouth in earnest. Cas draws away slowly, resting his head against Dean’s.

“What did you say on the dancefloor?” Dean asks quietly. “I couldn’t hear you.” Castiel bites at his lip and looks up at him through his lashes.

“Ti amo,” he murmurs. Dean’s brow furrows. “Italian”

“What’s it mean?” Dean asks. Cas runs a thumb over Dean’s knuckles.

“I love you,” he says softly. Dean’s eyes widen, and it takes nearly a full minute to process what he just heard. Castiel watches him, concern crossing his features at Dean’s silence.

“Ich liebe dich,” he blurts out after a long moment, finally gaining his bearings. “Uh, sorry, I take German… uh, I love you too.” Castiel presses his face into Dean’s shoulder as he arms wind around Cas, pulling him in closer.

They stand there, alone in the crowd of people for a very long time, before Charlie and Jo tap them on the shoulder.

“Are you two just going to make googly eyes at each other all night, or are you going to show use some of those sweet dance moves?” Charlie asks. Castiel pulls back and nods, offering his arm to Charlie.

“Of course,” he says. Dean holds up his arm for Jo, but she just pushes at him playfully.

“Dork,” she mutters with a smile. Dean watches from the side as Cas leads Charlie in a Waltz, carefully offering instruction as he does.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Jo asks. Dean looks back at her.

“I love him,” he replies. He turns his attention to Charlie and Cas, who is demonstrating different spins. Dean offers Jo a lazy salute. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to cut-in.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/). I dare ya.


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